


'Til Death My Doctor

by Magpie_Holmes



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock- Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Tragedy, Complete, Declarations Of Love, Eventual Smut, Friendship/Love, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pre and Post Reichenbach, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpie_Holmes/pseuds/Magpie_Holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone who knew the duo always knew that one day they would end up together. Sherlock and John had never realized this fact until one day, Sherlock got curious. It was this curiosity that awoke something in Sherlock that he never knew he was capable of. Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before You Read

I hope everyone likes this piece. I never intended to write a Johnlock piece, but this one flowed out of me with such ease. I'm really sorry if this upsets anyone (like, really sorry) but I wanted to share it here with you all. Comments, questions, criticism are all welcome. Feel free to share with people who you think will enjoy it. Just make sure that you link back to me or at least say who wrote it. I hope you all enjoy!

Oh. And obligatory "Character's belong to BBC" line here.


	2. The Failed Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock nearly kills John's dinner date to get him to come home. After a confrontation, Sherlock and John find themselves in a rather...compromising position. Will this moment ruin their friendship or bring about something more?

Sherlock sat cross-legged on the couch, scouring every single inch of his mind for the information he wanted. He furrowed his brow as he heard the door slam shut downstairs and opened his eyes when he heard John step into the room.

_'Red face, vein in temple pulsing, traces of chlorophyll stained into his right palm, tie undone. Bad date.'_

"Did you have a good time with Sylvia?" He asked, smirking.

"Did I...you know bloody well that I did not have a good time with _Alice."_ John stood in front of him and Sherlock hid his amusement. "Did you know that she's severely allergic to strawberries?"

"I noted that she had an Epipen in her pocketbook when she came over here." John stared at him incredulously. "She may also have mentioned the strawberry allergy once or twice before."

"Sherlock, you could have killed the woman! You suggested chocolate covered strawberries as a surprise dessert, knowing that she was allergic. I gave her the medication in the middle of our date. In a _restaurant,_ Sherlock. I had to hike up her skirt in the middle of a restaurant and everyone was staring. An old woman thought I was trying to take advantage of her and beat me over the head with her umbrella." Sherlock continued to smirk at John, watching as his face turned a deeper red than he'd ever thought possible. "You don't care do you?"

"I knew you would handle it," Sherlock replied. "You didn't happen to bring home any of those strawberries, did you?"

The consulting detective got up from the couch, going to close the door to the flat. This was one fight that he didn't want Mrs. Hudson walking in on. He turned to find John clenching and unclenching his fists and he smiled, amused at the man's anger.

"John, she was a waste of your time. You were merely a fling for her. She was only interested in you to see if she was happy with her partner or not. Which, she is very happy with him since he gave her the ring last week."

"Wh- _how_ do you know that exactly?" John pinched the bridge of his nose, going to sit down in his chair. "Were you spying on her?"

Sherlock grabbed the paper off the coffee table, tossing it at John. "Turn to the engagement announcements. I'm surprised you didn't see it this morning when you read the paper. Oh, that's _right._ You didn't read the paper this morning because you were running late for work and too focused on your date tonight to even realize it."

John flipped through the paper, freezing as he found the announcement. "Alice R. Cunningham. But...but she told me-"

"She lied," Sherlock spat. "Goodness, John, when are you going to realize that people lie? She knew what you were looking for and she took the opportunity and ran with it."

"And what exactly is it you think I'm looking for?"

"Sex." Sherlock knew he was right when the tips of John's ears turned pink. "Ever since you broke up with that doctor woman, you've been looking for someone to sleep with. I'm not blind, John, nor am I stupid."

"That's...that's not…" Sherlock closed the gap between them, towering over John, taking his hand. "Sherlock, w-what are you doing?"

"You've been looking for someone to share your bed when the answer has been with you the entire time," Sherlock murmured, pulling John closer to him. "Did you really think that I would have her go into anaphylactic shock without purpose?"

John stared up at him, mouth agape. "Sherlock, what-"

"Stop talking John," Sherlock crooned in his ear, pressing a kiss to his neck right below his earlobe. "Stop talking and come with me."

John's protests fell away as Sherlock pressed kiss after kiss against his neck, up his jaw, and then to the corners of his lips. The doctor turned his head towards Sherlock, but the consulting detective pulled away, a small smile on his lips. John let out a small groan, pressing himself against Sherlock, arms wrapping around his waist as he stared up at him with those stormy grey eyes. Sherlock felt himself grow hard, as he had nearly every time he'd seen John in the past few weeks.

Perhaps it had been jealousy seeing John with these women or perhaps he was finally getting past the asexual phase of his life. But he'd found that he couldn't get the doctor out of his head and it was beginning to seep into his work. So Sherlock had found two options. Either shove the feelings away into a box never to be touched again or satisfy his curiosity. Sherlock had never been one to deny himself or his curiosity, so he'd made up his mind as to what he was going to do. He pressed another kiss to John's neck, sucking on the skin gently as he began to unbutton John's shirt.

"Sherlock...Sherlock stop…" John pushed him away and Sherlock looked at him, confused. "I don't...this can't...leave me alone Sherlock. I need to think."

John turned, dashing upstairs to his room and Sherlock sighed. He'd done everything he'd thought was right. So why had John run away? Sherlock sat down in his chair, pressing his hands together, eyes closed. Had he not done something correctly?

~~~~~

Sherlock stepped into the shower, mind still working to figure out the problem. He still couldn't understand. He'd thought that John had liked him. He'd seen the glances, the attempts at flirtation. What else could John have meant by commenting on his being mysterious with his cheekbones? Had he read wrong into the situation? If that was the case, had it cost him his friendship with John?

The detective heard the door quietly slide open and then close again. He smiled to himself but said nothing, scrubbing the shampoo into his hair. He could hear John's mind working away at what to say, but what exactly it was, Sherlock didn't know.

"John, I wish to apologize for my rash actions earlier," Sherlock began. "I know that what I did must have been unexpected and I-"

The curtain was pulled back, revealing John standing in front of the tub with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Sherlock felt his pulse quicken and John stared down at his feet, ears turning pink.

"John?"

Without a word, John let the towel drop to the floor and Sherlock's eyes widened as he stared at John's naked form. "John, I don't want you-"

"Sherlock, shut up." John said quietly, looking at Sherlock, eyes dark with an emotion that Sherlock had never seen before on his face. What was it? Desire? Passion? "I know that you don't understand why I left. But I left because I was worried that if I took this step with you, it would change our friendship. Also...I've never felt this way towards another man before in my life. Can I join you in the shower?"

Sherlock stepped back under the water, allowing John to step into the tub. Sherlock reached out to touch the bullet wound scar on his shoulder, but John flinched away. "No, Sherlock. Let me...let me set the pace. Please."

Slowly Sherlock nodded and John stepped towards him, reaching out to rest one hand on Sherlock's chest. His other hand trailed down his stomach, brushing against his hip before going to cup his rear. Sherlock sighed as John pulled him close, the hand that was once on his chest now massaging the nape of his neck, fingers toying with the wet, dark curls. John looked up at him once more with those stormy grey eyes and that was all that Sherlock could take.

He pulled John's body tight against him, kissing him on the lips. This time though, instead of pulling away, John kissed him back. Sherlock parted his lips with his tongue, tasting the sweetness that was John Watson's mouth. John groaned as Sherlock suckled his lower lip and Sherlock felt as though he were struck by electricity when John's stomach rubbed against his hard cock. Without a word, he was pressing the smaller man against the wall, pinning him there as he kissed him passionately.

"Sherlock...Sherlock…"

"What?" The detective pulled back, staring down at John. "Don't tell me you're going to run away again."

"Far from it. Cut the water off and let's go to your bedroom."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure?"

"It's now or never Sherlock. I want you. Please don't make me beg."

Sherlock reached behind his back, cutting the water off. John was still staring at him with those same needy eyes and Sherlock smirked. "Would you really have begged?"

"Sherlock," John's voice was pleading. "Please don't make me."

"Oh I won't Doctor Watson," Sherlock closed the gap between them, fisting his hand in John's short hair, forcing him to look at him. "Not yet anyway."

Pushing him against the wall once more, he shuddered at the feeling of John's lean-muscled body against his. Sherlock reached between them, wrapping his hand around John's shaft, stroking him gently, thumb brushing against the sensitive tip. John's head fell back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Bloody hell...Sherlock, what are you trying to do, make me-"

Sherlock kissed him hard, silencing him as he continued his steady rhythm. John writhed under him, but Sherlock wouldn't let him move. Suddenly he stopped and John let out a pitiful whimper. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because I want to take my time with you." He took John's hand, leading him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. "If that's alright."

John nodded and Sherlock gripped him by his hips, lowering him to the bed, pressing kisses to his stubbled jawline. John groaned as Sherlock took his right nipple in-between his teeth, biting gently. Sherlock ground his hips against John, feeling the man lift his hips in response. To his surprise, John was flipping him to his back, one hand fisting in his hair, the other going to wrap around Sherlock's rock-hard dick. Sherlock tried to hold back a moan, but found that he couldn't, his head falling back on the bed in ecstasy.

"J-John...what...what're you…"

"Beg."

"I'm sorry?"

"Beg me for it Sherlock." John's hand continued a steady rhythm, lightly squeezing on every third stroke. "I want to hear you beg me for it."

Sherlock tried to move, but found that John had him pinned. He looked up at John, finding a small smile on his lips. "John, let me up."

John's grip tightened ever so slightly and he began to pick up his pace. "No. I want you to beg me for release. I want you to plead."

Sherlock tried to control his mind, but found that he couldn't. Every stroke of John's hand, every kiss that John pressed to his bare chest, broke down what little control he had left. Sherlock's hands fisted in the blankets and he let out a soft sigh. He barely even noticed that John's hand had left his hair and was instead gripping his behind, a finger courting his asshole. Sherlock hissed as John slid one spit-soaked digit inside of him, but John continued to rub his hard cock, his finger resting inside of him.

Sherlock couldn't formulate words or thoughts. He could only focus on the new sensations that John was bringing to him. Sherlock felt as though he were going to burst at the seams and he gripped John's shoulders, thrusting his hips up to John, noting the smile on his face.

"Come now Sherlock. Beg me for it. I'll make it worth your while if you do."

"Please," Sherlock managed to choke out as John inserted a second digit. "Please John. Please."

John pulled his fingers out of Sherlock and, with his now free hand, he reached behind him, grabbing the lubricant that he'd noticed Sherlock had left out. "You're clean of all diseases, right?"

"Yes," Sherlock panted. "John...I…"

"I know. I do too." John dripped a few drops onto himself and Sherlock was reaching up to massage it onto him. He continued to add drops until he was satisfied. "Get onto your hands and knees. Try to keep relaxed for me, alright?"

Sherlock nodded. This wasn't how he'd planned on things going, not at all, but he found himself enjoying it. He trusted John and knew that the man would do everything in his power to not hurt him. He flipped onto his hands and knees, feeling John's calloused hands on his backside. Slowly, ever so slowly, John slid inside of him. Sherlock focused on keeping his body relaxed, but he didn't find it difficult to do when John reached around, gripping his throbbing cock in his hand.

"We'll go slow," John murmured in his ear. "If it hurts, tell me. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Sherlock replied, turning his head to press a kiss to John's lips. "I trust you."

One hand on Sherlock's hips, the other stroking his shaft, John began to slide in and out of Sherlock. The pain was bearable after the first few strokes and then Sherlock felt that same sense of being ready to burst at the seams. His breathing came in ragged gasps, as did John's. John's pace was beginning to quicken and Sherlock could feel that the man was restraining himself.

"John...go with me…"

"Are you...sure?"

"Yes...John...John please...oh God...John...John!" Sherlock shouted, feeling himself bursting apart, his heart racing, his mind going blank for a few brief moments.

He could hear John moaning his name and the smaller man wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, pulling out of him and then down onto the bed. He pulled Sherlock close, their legs intertwining, John pressing gentle kisses to Sherlock's neck. Sherlock let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting closed.

"Sherlock?"

"Mhmm?"

"Did you plan all this?"

Sherlock smiled. "Not all of it. But a good portion."

"So...you ruined my date with Alice on purpose?"

"Maybe."

"Sherlock."

"Yes. I did." John got quiet and Sherlock rolled over to face him. "You're not upset with me, are you?"

"No, not at all," John replied, surprising Sherlock. "I...I'm glad you did."

Sherlock gave John a wide grin. "I'm glad I did too."

He pulled John close to him and they dozed off together, Sherlock resting his chin on top of John's head, John curled up against his chest. Right before Sherlock fell asleep, he heard John mumble a phrase that he'd never thought he'd hear in his life.

"I love you Sherlock Holmes."

Those five words rang through his mind as he fell asleep.

~~~~~

Blue-green eyes watched from the shadows as John stood at the grave. He'd been watching silently, wanting to come out from his hiding place and reassure John that he was alright, that he was still alive. But he knew that he couldn't. Not yet. Moriarty first, love later. Once he'd dismantled Moriarty's network, he would come back and tell John everything that he'd kept hidden for the past few months. That John had made his heart grow with his love, that he'd made him feel something he'd never thought he'd get to experience before.

"But please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock. For me." Sherlock felt his heart twinge as he heard the pain in his doctor's voice. "Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that...just for me? Just stop it. Stop this."

Sherlock watched with curiosity as John set something on the top of the headstone before limping away. He had to swallow hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. Sherlock waited until he was sure that John had gone back to the cab with Mrs. Hudson before he stepped out of his hiding place.

He walked slowly towards the grave, his heart doubling in speed as he spotted the velvet box sitting on top of the headstone. With shaking hands, he took it, opening it up to find a simple men's silver wedding band, four stones set into it, two diamonds and two garnets. Sherlock knelt down at his headstone and for the first time since Redbeard had died, he began to weep.

"John Hamish Watson...I love you too."

He slipped the ring onto his ring finger before getting to his feet. There was a mission he needed to complete.

Moriarty first...love later.


	3. Love Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has returned after being away for two years, dismantling Moriarty's network. Managing to convince John that he is alive is no easy feat and they meet on the rooftop of St. Bart's, the place where John's world came crashing down.

He looked out over the city, taking a deep breath of the cold November air. God how he'd missed London, moving and pulsing around him. Two years. Two _long_ years and he had missed the city every single day. But not as much as he'd missed his doctor.

Sherlock touched the ring on his left hand, the same place it had been since he'd received it from his grave. Seeing John and bringing down Moriarty's network had been the only two things that had kept him alive. Going home to John had been the most important though. He pulled his phone from his pocket, looking at the contact. Should he or shouldn't he?

**_John. Meet me at St. Bart's rooftop where it all ended. -SH_ **

Sherlock waited patiently for the reply, sitting down with his back against the edge of the wall. He closed his eyes, going over what he was going to say to John when he came. He didn't have to wait long for a response from his doctor.

**_Who is this? How did you get my number?_ **

**_It's me John. It's Sherlock. Meet me at St. Bart's. -SH_ **

**_This isn't funny. Sherlock has been dead for two years. Whoever this is, lose this number._ **

**_John. It's me. If you don't believe me come and have a look for yourself. -SH_ **

**_This is a sick joke. This is a cruel and sick joke. I am not coming up to that hospital only to be fooled by someone who thinks it's funny to play tricks on me. I told you. Lose this NUMBER!_ **

**_I got the ring. -SH_ **

**_…what…_ **

**_I got the ring that you left at my grave. It's on my finger now. Come and see for yourself. -SH_ **

Sherlock didn't receive a reply back and he smiled to himself. He had no doubt that John was on his way. Sherlock closed his eyes, resting his weary body as he waited for Dr. Watson to arrive. His mind was racing with all of the possibilities of what could happen. The two most logical options were that John was going to break down at the sight of him or he was going to fly into a fit of rage. Both of those were not something that Sherlock wanted to deal with, but if he had to choose one over the other, he would prefer the breakdown over the rage.

He sighed when he heard the door slam open. It was going to be the rage option.

Opening his eyes, he found John staring at him, unmoving except for his hands. He kept clenching and unclenching them. Sherlock got to his feet, taking three steps towards the man before John held up a hand. Sherlock froze in his tracks.

"John, I-"

"Two years," John whispered. Sherlock could tell that he was struggling to find words. "Two years…I thought…I thought...you were dead. Hmmm?" He paused to try and take a deep breath and Sherlock could see the tears in his eyes. "Now, you let me grieve, hmm? How could you do that? _How?"_

"John...it was not my intention to be away this long. I didn't think-"

"YOU DIDN'T THINK WHAT SHERLOCK?!" John roared, face turning a brilliant scarlet. "You broke my damn heart Sherlock Holmes! You broke it into thousands of tiny pieces and you didn't give a damn about it. You didn't give a damn about anything except for your stupid _case!"_

"John, let's not do anything in haste here. Well, except maybe shave that bush off of your top lip. Were you really intending to keep that?" Sherlock watched as the murderous look appeared on John's face and he knew that he would have to tread carefully. He was in no position to fight John. "I really didn't expect to be away this long."

"Oh? And how long were you planning on? A few months? Half a year? What was it, a nice _holiday_ for you?"

"It was no holiday. Seriously, could we go and shave that thing off of your upper lip? It's quite distracting and-"

He didn't realize that John had slammed into him until he was on his back, struggling to keep John from landing any blows. He didn't want to hurt the man, but when John's fist connected with his lip, he knew that he had no choice. Sherlock drove his elbow up into the smaller man's ribcage, shoving him away, struggling to his feet. John was also on his feet, teeth bared, eyes filled with murder.

"I grieved for you!" He shouted, taking another swing at Sherlock, who side-stepped. "I wept for you! I stopped eating, stopped sleeping! I had nightmares about you jumping! Laying there on the sidewalk, a pool of blood around your head! Everywhere I _looked_ there you were you heartless BASTARD!"

With every sentence he swung at Sherlock, trying to land a blow. Sherlock danced with ease around him, keeping a couple of arm lengths between him and the doctor. John rushed him again and Sherlock saw it as his opportunity to stop John fighting him. He stepped to the right, spinning as he did, grabbing John around the waist and pinning his arms to his side. John struggled and Sherlock winced at the pain from his beating in Serbia, but he refused to let go.

"John, listen to me."

"Let go!"

"Listen to me!" Sherlock said sharply and John stopped struggling, if only for a moment. "You have to understand. I am not a creature of emotion, nor do I understand why you are so upset when I am standing right here. But I came back and I came back for _you._ Could you please calm yourself long enough so that we can talk?"

John was tense in his arms and for a moment Sherlock was unsure of whether John would calm himself or not. But the soldier relaxed in his arms and Sherlock let go of him slowly, taking a step back.

"There. Now, was that so hard?"

He was blindsided by John's right hook and staggered backwards, feeling his nose begin to gush blood. Sherlock looked at John incredulously, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief to press to his bleeding nose.

_"Now_ we can talk." John sat down with his back to the wall, staring up at the bleeding detective. "You want to talk, let's talk. I'm calm now."

"I didn't leave without reason John."

"But why fake a suicide?"

"It was the only way that I could make Moriarty's network believe that I was dead. After Moriarty shot himself, I had to ensure that his agents knew that I went with him. It...it was to keep you safe."

"Keep me...Sherlock, what was there to keep me safe from? Moriarty was dead!"

Sherlock limped over to where John was sitting, easing himself down next to him. "Yes, the leader was dead, but that didn't mean that the hive was. Moriarty wanted to ensure that I wouldn't be around after he killed himself, which was why he hired assassins to take out you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. Obviously I couldn't let that happen. It was a ninety-five percent success rate."

"And if you had made it into the five percent?"

"I didn't."

"But if you _had,"_ John growled through gritted teeth. "Where would that have left me?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I suppose that would have left you burying an actual corpse and me being six feet under. But it didn't happen. Why don't we go and grab something to eat after I stop by the flat to pick up a change of clothes? I've gotten blood on my shirt it seems."

John slowly shook his head. "I'm not going back there. No way. I'm still not convinced that this isn't just a dream. A wonderfully terrible dream that I'm going to wake up from."

Sherlock sighed, glancing over at John, still holding the cloth to his nose. "This _isn't_ a dream John. I'm real. It's really me, I promise you."

The detective watched in confusion as the doctor's lower lip began to tremble. John pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a few deep breaths. His voice cracked on the first attempt and he cleared his throat before trying to speak again.

"Sherlock...I nearly lost my mind. I thought you were gone forever...that I was going to have to do this on my own. I thought...I thought that I'd lost the one person that I could...that I…"

John began to weep and Sherlock felt that tug at his heart again. He scooted closer to John and to his surprise, John threw himself into Sherlock's arms, burying his face in his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. Sherlock froze before wrapping his arms around John, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. They stayed like that for a long time, John's tears staining the front of Sherlock's shirt, Sherlock pressing kisses to the top of John's head.

When John's sobs had turned to sniffles, Sherlock pulled back a bit, reaching up to taking John's chin in his hand. "John Watson, did you _really_ think that I was dead?"

John nodded slowly, eyes red-rimmed from his tears. "I really did." 

Sherlock smiled gently. "You're a fool. But...I love you too John. You were...the only thing to get me through some of the more difficult nights." 

The detective was surprised to watch a smile appear on John's lips. "Do you mean that Sherlock?" 

"I do." Sherlock reached into his pocket, taking out the box. "I bought this before I contacted you. I thought...that I would return the favor. One more miracle. John Hamish Watson, my doctor, the greatest man I have ever met...will you marry me?" 

John's face went pale and Sherlock felt his heart begin to pound. Had he done something wrong? He'd thought that this was the way the engagement ritual was supposed to be performed. 

"Sherlock...are you...you're serious aren't you?" 

Sherlock felt his hopes begin to drop. "Yes. I am." 

He began to tuck the box back into his pocket when John grabbed his wrist. The doctor took it from Sherlock, opening it to look at the ring. A small smile tugged at his lips. "It's perfect...Sherlock. I...yes." 

Sherlock smiled and was surprised when John leaned in to kiss him. He rested a hand against the man's face, ignoring the tickle of the moustache. He had missed John's kiss, the taste of his lips and tongue, the passion that was barely held in check. Sherlock pulled away, resting his forehead against John's. 

"For a moment, I was worried that you were going to say no. That you'd found someone else." Sherlock took the box from John's hand, sliding the ring onto his finger. "I was worried that...you didn't love me anymore." 

"Sherlock...nothing on earth could make me stop loving you," John murmured, reaching up to play with the curls at the nape of Sherlock's neck. "Now, why don't we go and tell the world that you're alive once again?" 

The detective smiled, struggling to his feet before offering his hand to John's. "We will. But only if you shave that caterpillar growing on your upper lip." 

John chuckled, touching the moustache. "I like it." 

"Yes, well, I don't. I'm not marrying an old man." Sherlock offered him a smile. "People will think that you're robbing the cradle John." 

They both laughed and Sherlock felt happy as John's fingers intertwined with his. Moriarty was finished. Now it was time for love. Finally. 


	4. I.O.U.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have finally reached their wedding day. After much plotting and planning, Sherlock Holmes will finally become Sherlock Watson-Holmes. He had never believed in love until he'd met John Hamish Watson. Now they were looking at the next forty years together solving mysteries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I'm so sorry everybody. So so sorry.*

"Sherlock. Sherlock, easy." John chuckled, trying to push the man away. "We've only just arrived."

"Yes and your point would be what?" Sherlock questioned, gently nibbling John's stubbled jaw. "Isn't this what couples are supposed to do on their honeymoon?"

"Yes it is, but this _isn't_ our honeymoon. This is the time in-between our wedding and our reception and we are in the car that your brother hired for us."

Sherlock sighed, flopping back in the seat, crossing his arms across his chest. "You always ruin my fun."

"Well, one of us has to be the sane one in this marriage."

Sherlock grinned at John. "You know, we _could_ skip the reception, get an early start on our honeymoon."

"No," John replied, leaning back in his. "After all the time you spent planning this? No. We're going to get through the reception."

"But that means that people will have to give moronic speeches that mean nothing and we'll have to listen to dozens of congratulations. Do you _really_ want to sit through all of that mess?"

"Yes."

"Why? Because it's expected of us? Of you more than me?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, Sherlock. All of these people have traveled long distances to see us. The least we can do is be present for them." John took his hand. "Plus, Mr. Watson, we practiced that first dance so much that I'd like for us to be able to show the world."

Sherlock smiled. "I do love to dance."

"I know you do. Mrs. Hudson knows too with how many times she caught us practicing."

Sherlock chuckled, pulling John closer to him, breathing in the scent of soap and aftershave. He'd grown to love that smell in the mornings when John was curled up next to him in their bed. He'd never admit it of course, but there were a lot of things that he loved about his doctor. And of course he saw all of it, every tick, every nervous habit, every smile, every change in weight, clothing, grooming habits. He knew when John was trying to impress him and when John had had a horrible day at the office. He knew when his old wound was bothering him and when he needed to sleep or to eat. It was much like having a pet. Except this Redbeard would be with him for the rest of his life. And he didn't think that fact would ever bother him.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Oh, I'm thinking about a couple of cases that I'll need to attend to when we return from Spain. Nothing too important, but they will need my attention."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Very."

"Secret?"

"Top secret."

John was grinning from ear to ear. "It sounds like you're trying to convince me to stay at home."

"God no. Quite the opposite. I mean, I married you to help me on cases."

"Is that all you married me for?"

"Yep." John looked up at him in shock before breaking into a wide grin, realizing that Sherlock was joking. "Well, I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy your company."

They arrived at their destination and Sherlock helped John from the car. John straightened Sherlock's coat and Sherlock helped John with his tie. People were pulling into the reception and John and Sherlock stood at the entrance, greeting everyone, thanking them for coming. John reached for Sherlock's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Sherlock relaxed slightly. Despite his feelings on marriage and love, he was willing to try for John. If this was the closest thing that he could get to love and happiness in his life, he would take it.

After the seemingly endless stream of guests, they entered the reception hall, seating themselves at the high table. The wedding party consisted of Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, the men seated on Sherlock's left and the women on John's right. They finished the meal and as the plates for dessert were whisked away, the officiant announced that everyone should turn their attention to Mycroft. Sherlock sighed, grimacing inwardly. He'd hoped that Lestrade would be the best man, but John had insisted that he choose his brother.

"Little brother," Mycroft began and Sherlock winced. "Years and years ago, back when you were young, I never pictured you getting married. I pictured you as a pirate on the waters, using that _somewhat_ brilliant brain of yours to rob mariners of their money. I thought that you would become my mortal enemy and that we would be sworn to kill one another until the end of our days." The room was silent and Sherlock fought back a sigh. "But now, here we are."

"When you told me that you were intending to marry John, I was far from surprised. You always had a fondness for your pets. So why should the doctor that you'd taken under your wing be any different?" Sherlock took John's hand, watching as the man glanced up at him with hurt and doubt. "He became different the day you faked your death. I could see in his grief, which I've personally never understood, that he loved you. That he would do anything for you. I watched with interest as he wept for you, as he visited your grave every week. As he came by, on more than one occasion, drunk to your grave and howled at the sky with an agony that could make your skin crawl."

"I tell you now, little brother, that you are a lucky man to have someone so devoted to you. To have someone who would love you so deeply, truly, and unconditionally. I knew the day that I met him that he would change your life and you would change his. I ask now that we toast to the lovely couple, to a long and happy marriage filled with many adventures and mysteries for them to solve." Mycroft raised his glass. "A toast, to the doctor and the detective. May their marriage be blessed."

There were a couple more speeches and then Sherlock and John cut their wedding cake. It had been a simple cake, a deerstalker cap with a stethoscope wrapped around it. It was the one thing that Sherlock and John had completely agreed on in regards to the wedding. Sherlock took John's hand as everyone milled around, leading him to a side room so that they could practice their first dance.

"Sherlock, we've practiced this a hundred times," John protested weakly. "I've mastered every bloody step, every turn, every dip. Can we _please_ not do this right now?"

"Well it's either that or I take you on that table over there," Sherlock stated calmly, watching as John's ears turned bright pink and his mouth dropped open with shock. "It's your choice John."

"Oh no. No, you don't get to make that choice." With surprising speed, John grabbed Sherlock and dragged him to the table, bending him over it, reaching around to fumble with the belt on Sherlock's waist.

"John...easy...we are at a wed-" Sherlock groaned as John's hand wrapped around his hard cock. "Where did this come from?"

"Shut up," John muttered in his ear, stroking Sherlock with one hand as he undid his own belt buckle with the other. "You know that I've wanted you since I saw you this morning at the altar."

"Mmmmm. Is that so?"

John's hand tightened and he picked up his pace, listening as Sherlock moaned again. He tugged his own underwear down before working Sherlock's down. Sherlock glanced back at him and John kissed him passionately before turning the taller man to face him.

"On your knees," John commanded, watching as Sherlock obliged. "Now, make it wet before I decide to pleasure you."

Sherlock leaned down, licking the tip of John's hard cock. The doctor groaned, eyes half-closed, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks. Sherlock gripped his hip lightly, sucking and teasing, licking along John's shaft. John's groans grew louder and Sherlock knew that he was getting close to orgasming. He got to his feet, taking his spot over the table once more.

"Go on John. Take me."

John stepped behind him, his right hand fisting in the detective's dark curls. "Are you sure?"

"Very, John. Please." Sherlock's whimper made John shudder.

He entered Sherlock, resting his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder before beginning to set the pace. John reached around to stroke Sherlock as he thrust deep inside him. The room filled with their guttural moans and the not unpleasant smell of their sweat intermingling. John was panting for air and Sherlock looked back at him with barely contained need.

"Please John...please…"

It was that pleading tone that drove John over the edge. "Sherlock!"

"John."

John's back arched and his grip tightened. His hand became covered in Sherlock's sticky cum, but he didn't mind. They stayed coupled together for a few moments before John pulled out, straightening himself up, using a handkerchief to wipe himself and his hand off. Sherlock stood up, pulling his pants up and buttoning them. They looked at each other, breathless smiles on their faces.

Sherlock approached John, cupping his face in both hands before kissing him. John's arms wrapped around his waist as he kissed back. They stayed like that until someone cleared their throat from the doorway. They sprang apart like two teenagers who had been caught snogging after curfew. Mycroft laughed.

"Are you two done? It's ten minutes before your first dance."

"I know what time it is Mycroft," Sherlock snapped. "Give us a couple of minutes. We were having a moment."

"So I could see. Two minutes and then I'll be back to get you."

Sherlock looked to John, taking his hand, running his finger over the wedding ring. "Doctor Watson, what do you do to me?"

"I could ask the same thing of you Mr. Watson."

They both laughed and then Sherlock kissed him again, tenderly this time. As he pulled back he peered into those stormy grey-blue eyes, seeing the love and passion sparkling there. "John...I love you. If I died today I would die the happiest man in the world."

"Good thing we're going to live for another forty years then at least."

They straightened themselves up before they walked out, going to stand outside the doors to the reception hall. The music that Sherlock had written for their wedding began to play and the doors opened. The world slowed down in that moment as the doors swung open and Sherlock stepped forward with John on his arm. Sherlock didn't know what was happening. One minute he was stepping forward and the next he was on his back on the ground, John standing where he had been.

There was the sound of screams and John turned to look at him, face going pale. Sherlock took in the scene.

_'Rapidly paling face, lips turning blue. Is that...blood?'_

"John," Sherlock whispered in horror, getting to his feet to catch the sagging doctor. Molly was running up, Lestrade and Mycroft tackling the gunman. "John, no. Stay with me. _John!"_

He laid John down on the floor, taking his jacket off, applying pressure to the wound. John looked up at him with fearful eyes and Sherlock knew the look of death on his face. "Sher...lock?"

"Hush. Hush my dearest doctor. We're going to get you help. You stay with me." John's eyes fluttered closed and Sherlock slapped him across the face, forcing him to jerk back to reality. "John, stay with me! That's an order!"

"Sherlock...I'm dying." The words were simple and calmly spoken. "I know I am. I can see it on your face. You know it...I know it."

"No. You're not going to die. We have another forty years at least...remember?"

John coughed and blood bubbled up from between his pale lips. The entire room was silent. Molly took the pressure from Sherlock, giving him a look of sympathy. Sherlock bent down, stroking John's cheek, trying to hide the tears that were beginning to fall. John reached up with his right hand, gripping Sherlock's left, running his thumb weakly over the wedding band.

"Sherlock...I love you. I am...so glad...you became my...husband."

"Hush John," Sherlock murmured, choking back a sob. "Hush. I'm still your husband. You're still here. You're going to be fine."

John laughed before coughing again. "You always were...bad at lying to me. Sherlock...tell me...tell me you love me. Please...I need to hear it."

Sherlock leaned down next to his husband's ear, the tears slipping freely down his face now. "John...my dearest doctor...I love you. I loved you the day I met you and I will love you every day until I die." Sherlock felt John's hand go limp in his and he began to weep. "John...please don't go. Please…" He pressed a kiss to the dead doctor's lips, not caring about the blood there. "Good-bye...John."

He knelt beside his husband's body, sobbing and crying, even after the coroner took his body and the only people that were left were Molly, Lestrade, and Mycroft.

~~~~~

"Who is she?" Sherlock asked, staring down at the headstone next to his. "Did she give any hint as to who she was?"

"Said her name was Mary Morstan," Mycroft replied, not looking up from his phone. "She also said that Moriarty sends his regards and to give you this as your wedding present."

"I knew he wasn't dead," Sherlock said softly, eyes never wavering from the name on the headstone as he took the letter from Mycroft. "I knew and yet I didn't go after him. I had to see John. And because of this...John stepped in front of the bullet that was intended for me."

"Well...now you can dedicate your time to finding Moriarty."

"How Mycroft? How do you expect me to do that? My heart died the day that John Watson did. I…" His voice filled with tears and he swallowed hard, refusing to cry in front of his older brother. "I'm not taking on any more cases. Consider my days as a consulting detective over with."

"Oh? And what will you do then? Go back to drugs? Throw away your talents?" Mycroft looked up at his little brother, frowning at the sight of the tears threatening to overflow. "Come now Sherlock, you can't seriously have been that attached to him? He was a pet of yours."

"No...he was more than that. He was...my doctor." Sherlock looked down at the ground. "Please leave me for a moment Mycroft. I wish to say my good-byes."

Mycroft sighed, but obliged. He glanced over his shoulder as he walked away. "This isn't what he would have wanted Sherlock."

"No," Sherlock agreed softly as his brother walked away. "He wanted forty years with me solving mysteries and going on cases. He wanted old age and adopting children, raising them in a loving home. I would have loved to have all of that with him."

Sherlock opened the note, reading over it, shaking his head. Reaching into his pocket, he produced the velvet box that had once contained his engagement ring. Now it held John's engagement and wedding ring. Sherlock sat down, leaning his back against his own headstone. He set down the box on John's grave and from his other pocket he produced John's gun. He pressed the barrel of it to his temple.

"So we didn't get our forty years John...what about an eternity?" He loaded the gun. "I love you John Hamish Watson. See you soon."

Sherlock pulled the trigger as the rain began to fall.

~~~~~

Mycroft froze when he heard the gunshot. His stomach sunk down to his toes and he was turning, running back to where he'd left his brother. A cry of anguish ripped from his throat as he saw Sherlock slumped against the grave, the gun in his left hand, his right reaching out to touch John's headstone. He was frozen, rooted to the spot at the sight of his brother's body, the blood splattered against the stone and grass.

"Sherlock...Sherlock...what have you done?"

He called the authorities before approaching what would soon be Sherlock's real grave. He picked up the paper from the ground, reading it slowly.

_'Remember our first meeting Sherlock? How your boyfriend threw himself on me to protect you? I knew he would do it again. All it took was one tiny red dot and he would throw himself in front of the bullet. Remember what I told you? Remember what I said in that pool._ I _would burn the heart_ O _ut of yo_ U. _Consider my debt to you paid in full. Happy marriage and all that, even though it will be short-lived. Ta-ta! -Jim'_

Mycroft stood there with the note in the rain until police arrived to take away his brother's body.

"I hope you're happy Sherlock," Mycroft whispered, staring up at the stormy sky. "I hope you're happy wherever you both are as Doctor and Mr. Watson...I'm sorry brother mine. So sorry."


	5. Epilogue: A Piece of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy(ish) ending for Sherlock Holmes and his doctor.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Sherlock opened one eye to find a small child poking his cheek. "Wake up! Papa said that he's making pancakes for breakfast this morning! Come on!"

Sherlock pushed up out of the bed, shaking his head. "Go on Miles. I'll be down in a minute. Is Carl awake?"

"Yeah, he is. I think he was helping Papa."

"Alright. I will be down in a few minutes." The boy began to bound out of the room when Sherlock said, "Miles, have you been practicing like I asked you to?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good. We'll play Deductions after breakfast then."

Sherlock got up, going to the bathroom, washing his face. He smiled at himself in the mirror. Everything he could ever want, right at his fingertips. Sherlock glanced down at the ring on his left hand and felt his heart flutter. Still to this day it gave him goosebumps. Ten years later and John Watson was still the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

The day that he'd arrived at their flat, he and John had had the biggest domestic that 221B had ever seen. John had taken swings at him, had struck him over and over. Sherlock had done his best to stop him, but knew that it had to all be let out.

 _"YOU STUPID, SELFISH ASSHOLE!"_ Sherlock grinned at the sound of John's voice shouting at him in his head. _"YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO FOLLOW ME YOU IDIOT!"_

There was a knock on the door and Sherlock opened it to find the doctor standing there. "Didn't you hear me?"

"No, I'm afraid I was lost in thought. What did you say?"

"That perhaps we should take the children and Redbeard down to the park. Soo Lin wanted to meet us for tea later as well." John frowned. "What's the matter? You look a bit pale."

"Nothing...it's fine. I think that...well, it's close to the day again."

"Ah," was all John said. "Right. I haven't quite figured out how to control it yet."

"It's fine. No need to worry about it. So, you've made pancakes? How domestic of you."

John rolled his eyes. "The children were hungry."

"Did you forget that they don't need to eat?"

John sighed. "Did you forget that we're trying to make life as normal as possible for them?"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to sigh. "Carl at least knows that he's dead."

"Yes and when we found the poor boy he was in such a state of shock that he couldn't communicate. Its taken us how long to get him to talk?"

"Fine. Let them eat their pancakes. Has the paper come yet?"

"Yes."

"Any word on Moriarty?"

"Your brother finally caught him."

"And?"

"And Moriarty was killed in the stand-off. Finally. Ten years later and he finally manages to nail the bastard." John's face and voice were filled with rage. Sherlock touched his cheek tenderly. "This wasn't how it was supposed to happen."

"No," Sherlock agreed. "You're right about that."

"We were supposed to have a lifetime together."

"And we do. It's just...not where we wanted it to be."

John ran a hand through his hair. "At least we have the children. Does Miles know what happened?"

"No."

"Do you?"

_'Broken glass in the boy's hair. Blood trickling down the back of his neck. Spine snapped in four-no-five places. Money clutched in one hand, a book on psychology in the other. School boy, bullied by his peers for being different, shoved out of a window when he tried to defend himself.'_

"Sherlock?"

"No, I've no clue. He'll remember eventually. Hopefully."

"Come on Sherlock. Let's go and get some breakfast."

As John turned to walk away, Sherlock grabbed him, pulling him close and kissing him. John relaxed against him, wrapping his arms around his waist. They stayed like that for a minute before Sherlock pulled away. "John?"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"Are you still angry at me?"

"For what? What have you done now?"

"Nothing. I was...thinking about our fight."

"Sherlock, that was ages ago."

"Yes, I know. But...are you still angry with me?"

John sighed, closing the door to the bathroom so that the children wouldn't hear. "I'm not angry, no. I'm sad that you would choose to follow me instead of living and helping the lives of those around you. But I'm not angry. I still think you're an idiot for it. But I'm not angry."

"John...how could I have stayed without my doctor?"

John frowned. "I don't know. But you should have. It must be very boring up here for you."

"Quite the contrary. I didn't believe that heaven existed, so this has been something for me to study. Coming here made me realize that I like being proven wrong."

"That's not something that I ever expected to hear come from your mouth."

"I'm certain of that. And you will probably never hear it again. Now, you said that there were pancakes?"

"In the kitchen. I've already made a plate for you to go with your tea."

Sherlock nodded, giving John a gentle kiss. "Thank you."

"For what?" John asked, confused.

"For not being angry with me still."

"Oh...well...you're welcome." Sherlock walked out of the bathroom and John looked up into the mirror for a brief moment.

He could see that day as if it were yesterday. Their wedding, how relaxed Sherlock had looked before their first dance. He could see the red dot appearing on Sherlock's chest. He was shoving him out of the way of the bullet. Blinding pain. A cold washes over him, overwhelming his senses. The only thing he can feel is Sherlock's lips against his as he died, the only thing he can hear are the words _'I love you'_ ringing in his ears. John looked down to see the blood on his shirt. He had to tell himself that it wasn't there, that that had been ten years ago.

John looked down again, the blood gone on the front of his tan jumper. He straightened himself up in the mirror, smiling. It wasn't what he'd wanted for him or his husband, but it was his new life. Two adopted boys, one five, the other eleven, and his husband, who, for better or worse, was with him for the rest of eternity.

John found that he didn't mind. After all, this was his and Sherlock's piece of heaven and for once, they would actually get to enjoy it.

"John? Are you coming to breakfast?"

"Yes Sherlock. I'm coming." John smiled before mumbling to the ceiling, "It's not how I wanted it...but I'm glad I have it. Thank you for my heaven."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end of it. I'm so sorry if this upset you, but I do hope that you enjoyed it. Have a wonderful day and thank you so much for reading!


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